Forest of Dean
by CourtneyEllen
Summary: "Who taught you to Apparate, Potter?"


For QLFC, I was given the prompt: Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes: Write about someone getting injured

Word Count: 1,612

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Rapid panting broke the quiet of the forest as two people suddenly appeared in a flash of white. Both were dressed in dark robes, further hiding them in the night, and held their wands in such fierce grips that one could almost hear the wood creaking in protest. The younger of the two had black hair and was leaning against a tree, his chest heaving underneath a briefcase that was clutched to it. Those who knew him personally would know that he usually wore glasses that covered up bright green eyes, but the glasses had long been lost in their escape. The other was laid out across the forest floor, his breathing sounding more like wheezing and his hand clutched to his ribcage. This man was the only source of light in the dark they were surrounded in, though his blonde hair did nothing to really light up the area.

"Who taught you to Apparate, Potter?" the blond spat, his words trembling and laced with pain. The other, Potter, glanced over at his partner and squinted in an attempt to see him.

"Quiet. We don't know if they followed us," Potter hissed back, carefully moving from the tree and towards where his partner's voice had come from. Potter silently cursed the fact that he had lost his glasses, it made it twice as difficult to navigate. He winced when his foot collided with something, and his partner let out a small whimper. He muttered a brief apology before placing the briefcase down next to him and standing back up again, his wand firmly in his hand as he began to mutter spells.

_Salvio hexia. Protego Totalum. Repello Muggletum. Muffliato. Salvio Hexia. Protego Totalum. Repello Muggletum. Muffliato._

The spells did not bring back any fond memories, only nightmares of running from a monster and losing his best friend while a cursed item ate away any positive thoughts that may have appeared. Potter shivered at the thoughts while he walked a tight circle around him and his partner, his mumbling continuing. 'Hermione would be proud of me for remembering' he thought to himself, a small quirk of his lip at the thought of his best friend. She had been worried about him working this case, but he had become an Auror for this very reason, and he knew that his life would be at risk.

At the age of seventeen, Harry Potter could confidently say he had been through hell and back for the Wizarding World and had defeated Voldemort, an evil wizard tyrant that had wanted to rid the magical world of Muggle-born and half-bloods. With the defeat of Voldemort, Harry had felt at a loss with what to do with himself. There had been no world to protect, and yet the horrors of war had made classwork hard to stomach. That had been when interim - at the time - Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt had offered him and anyone who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts (as the papers called it) a place among the Aurors, should they wish to join. Harry and his best mate Ron Weasley had jumped at the opportunity, both too battle-weary and neither education-inclined enough to sit their last year at Hogwarts. Hermione had continued on with her education and was now secretary to Minister Shacklebolt. Many had followed Hermione's path, having seen enough carnage in their life. The only other who had jumped at the unique opportunity had been Draco Malfoy.

Desperate to redeem himself and fresh off his interim stay at Azkaban, awaiting trial, Draco had offered to provide all his knowledge of Death Eater strongholds, safe houses, and artifacts in their possession. This had labelled him a traitor not just among the remaining Death Eaters, but among the pure-bloods and Slytherins. The majority of their families were dark and hid dangerous artifacts in their possession, and Draco had given them all up for a chance of redemption. Harry respected him for it; he was no longer that pompous boy that he had fought with all throughout his school years. He was a man damaged without his consent and willing to make things right again. Though Harry respected him, he had been a bit put out when Draco had been assigned as his partner for the Aurors.

Robards, the current Head of the Aurors, had claimed that the choice was made because Harry and Ron were like family and family members working together was never a good idea, in his opinion. Looking back on it, Harry should have called him on his reasoning since Draco had come to mean almost the same thing to him as Ron in the last three years they had been partners. Harry felt the same biting fear when Draco was missing or hurt as he did when he heard from Ron's partner, Neville Longbottom, that Ron had gotten hurt. Robards must have just wanted to see him and Draco go for each other's throats on a daily basis. Harry did not doubt it with how many times he saw money exchanged when he and Draco fought or heard the phrase "like an old married couple" come from the Head Auror.

"Potter," the hiss from Draco broke Harry from his thoughts, and he quickly finished his protections and scrambled back to his partner, careful not to kick him this time around. He dropped to his knees in the mud and blindly scanned Draco's body for injuries.

"I lost my glasses," Harry murmured, using his wand to cast a Lumos so at least they would be able to see. Harry, while not as beat up as Draco, was still hurt. He had scratches along his cheekbones and close to his eyes (it was fortunate none had pierced his eyes) from when his glasses had shattered, and his face was a little bruised and swollen from fighting. Harry could not even see the extent of Draco's condition, could only see that the blond was clutching his ribs.

"Right coat pocket," Draco huffed through gritted teeth, shifting his arm so Harry could dig into his jacket. The dark-haired man was surprised when he found a pair of glasses, but he could tease Draco about it later. He shoved the glasses on his face and gasped at the damage done.

Sure enough, Draco's ribs looked like they had been at least cracked from the way he was wheezing, and his shoulder was Splinched too. Harry apologized sheepishly. Draco had always been in charge of Apparating them. His face was bloody, and the blonde hair matted to his face with a mixture of blood, sweat, and mud. Harry was surprised that Draco was not crying or seizing. He had remembered the twisted limbs and wails of his best mate when Ron had gotten Splinched by Hermione all those years ago. The green-eyed man quickly shook away the memory and began digging through his briefcase for their supplies.

"Did we get it?" Draco asked in an attempt to distract himself from the pain. Harry was not a fully fledged Healer, but he knew the basics. Luckily, after seeing Ron Splinched and having gotten Splinched a few times himself, he had started carrying Dittany around with them—brewed by Draco, of course.

"Yeah, we did," Harry murmured, his fingers brushing against the Time-Turner nestled within the briefcase. Shacklebolt had remembered the stories of Hermione's third year and had not wanted anyone else to get any ideas about going back in time, even if Hermione's travels had been harmless. Unfortunately, the owners of the Time-Turner were the Burke family and had not taken too kindly to their Seizure Warrant. Let's just say that a duel in Knockturn Alley with 'The Savior' and 'Pure-blood Traitor' had not gone as smoothly as they would have hoped. They had lost Draco's briefcase, the case set to catch fire if anyone other than Draco or Harry touched it, but they had retrieved the Time-Turner.

"Splendid," Draco seethed, his hand clutched Harry's forearm when he began to apply the Dittany to his Splinch. "Now, do you mind telling me where the hell we are?" Draco asked, not moving his arm to test it since his ribs were injured on that side. He did, however, pick up his wand and began to heal the minor cuts along Harry's face.

"The Forest of Dean. Hermione took us here when we were on the run," Harry said, not missing the soft look that crossed Draco's face. Despite the unwillingness at the beginning of their partnership, they had spent many hours together and had shared stories. Draco had heard all about Harry's life on the run and what had happened during those months.

"I bet it is charming in the daylight when not injured or being chased by pseudo-Death Eaters," Draco hummed, carefully shifting into an upright position. Harry nodded his head along with his words, remembering the long time he and Hermione had spent in these woods, the loss of Ron and their old lives fresh in their hearts. Harry carefully helped Draco off the ground, gathering their things back into the briefcase while Draco used Harry's shoulder to balance himself. Once they were all set, he wrapped one of his arms around Draco's waist and held the briefcase securely with the other.

"Hopefully, you get Splinched this time," Draco huffed, letting a small smile slip on his lips at Harry's soft laughter. With a faint 'pop!' the forest was quiet once more as the two Apparated to the Ministry to hand over the artifact. And if Harry followed Draco to St. Mungo's later and laughed while the nurses fussed over them both, the blond simply smiled along.

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I hope you enjoyed!


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